


Steam-Powered Heart

by colonizedWindy



Category: Karanduun (Roleplaying Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27837265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonizedWindy/pseuds/colonizedWindy
Summary: A short story/origin story of Habagat, an Unchained Anghel from the Veil Piercers group of the roleplaying game Karanduun. Disillusioned by the Trinity's constant wars and subjugation of the humans, Habagat broke from their chains. Awakening on earth lost and confused, they drifted around the world till they met a certain brilliantly shining teahouse Santelmo.
Relationships: Habagat x Arawen
Kudos: 3





	Steam-Powered Heart

When those in the heavens whispered of those Unchained, they always made mention of how they were ungrateful bastards, fools who knew nothing but how to bite the hand that fed them. The Unchained were heathens, fit to be cast out if they didn’t already show themselves the door and remove themselves from the ranks of the Trinity’s warriors. 

They never spoke of how lost one could feel, Unchained.

I thought that the anger was enough to sustain me. The outrage that I felt against these eons of injustice, these useless wars, these petty power grabs, I thought it would be enough. I was wrong, so wrong. Breaking free of my chains, it was all I could do to hold onto what meager, pathetic sense of justice I had that fooled me into believing this was the right course of action. Once radiant, majestic, I was left dulled and tarnished. My wings were ripped from my back, and the cogs and gears in my chest sounded loud in my ears as they ground together with a plaintive, sorrowful cry.

The earth was cold. Its people were hardened. Suffering was as plentiful as the sand on the blood stained beaches. How long I wandered the earth, pulled about by the western wind, I cannot say. My travels simply blurred together till nothing mattered. It was unfamiliar land and unfamiliar faces as far as the eye could see. All of this, and for what? For justice? For the good of the world? Perhaps the masters were right, the Unchained were fools who knew nothing.

And then, it was as if the fog was lifted.

“Hello?”

I dimly realized what establishment I had walked into. A tea shop? Its patrons were strewn about the floor, laying on cushions and piles of soft fabrics. A haze of smoke hung in the air, scented with an unfamiliar herb. And there she was, standing before me, looking curiously upwards. Her body was of flame, flickering gently, held within the confines of brightly colored fabrics wrapped around her like a robe.

“What’s your name?”

I shook my head. I didn’t have one; not one that these earth-bound souls could pronounce anyway.

“You don’t have one? Hmm…” she trailed off, and tapped her chin with her fingers as she thought. “Where are you from?”

The West, I replied vaguely. I couldn’t look away from her. 

“Then I’ll give you a name!” She said in her energetic, bright voice. Her flame flickered in excitement. “How about…Habagat?” 

Habagat. This is my name.

The way she giggled and clapped her hands in joy when I accepted the name… There was a heat in my chest. Where did it come from?

This living flame, this Santelmo as she said she was, whisked me deeper into the teashop which she owned. She fretted and worried about the state of my clothes, the same ones I had scrapped together for myself when I first awoke Unchained. I was given a shirt — a polo with a wide neck — to hide the large gashes where my once proud wings had been. She couldn’t do anything about my unnatural height, my silver skin, or my pitch black eyes, but the way she looked at me, I believed there was no need to hide anything.

Her name was Arawen, and she shone like the sun. She blazed with a passion and brightness that was as a clear, welcome morning after a raging storm. In her soft light that lit the haze of the teahouse with a soft glow, for the first time in a long time, I did not feel lost anymore.

The heat rose, more and more, as she let me stay at her teahouse day after day. Even on days when she busied herself with clients, rushing to and fro within the haze of herbal smoke within the teahouse, she never minded me simply being there. And I found myself contented to just watch her, to be around this Santelmo, spending a quiet moment in her presence. 

Then it was one day, a day just like any other, when I felt the cold, rusted cogs and gears in my chest creak back into motion. I found life, and purpose, and maybe something more, in that hazy teahouse and in its radiantly shining owner.  
Arawen sat beside me after a busy hour of tending to clients and whatever other tasks she had. Her smile was cheerful, unbothered.

“Would you like a mushroom?”

I found myself chuckling silently. How could I refuse?


End file.
